A merry new year to you and yours. How have you been since I saw you? .
. .
If you can find an old copy of Taylor's Holy Living and Dying cheap and
clean at the same time, pray buy it for me. It is for my old friend Mrs.
Schutz: and she would not allow me to give it her: so that I give you her
directions. . . .
I am very deep in my Aristophanes, and find the Edition I bought quite
sufficient for my wants. One requires a translation of him less than of
any of the Greeks I have read, because his construction is so clear and
beautiful. Only his long words, and local allusions, make him difficult,
so far as I have seen. He has made me laugh heartily, and wonder: but as
to your calling him greater than Aeschylus or Sophocles, I do not agree
with you. I have read nothing else. What a nice quiet speech Charles
Kemble made on quitting the stage: almost the best I can remember on such
an occasion. Did Spedding hear him? My dear Allen, I should often wish
to see you and him of an evening as heretofore at this season in London:
but I don't see any likelihood of my coming till February at nearest. We
live here the usual quiet country life: and now that the snow is so deep
we are rather at a loss for exercise. It is very hard work toiling along
the roads, and besides so blinding to the eyes. I take a spade, and
scuppet {44} away the snow from the footpaths. . . .
Write to me at Boulge Hall, Woodbridge; for I think that the snows will
be passable, and my sisters arrived there, before you write. There's an
insinuation for you. Make my remembrances to Mrs. Allen: and believe me
Yours ever most affectionately,